In the case of Los Angeles, it is scary to think that it may someday become what its politicians have designed it to be, a city for the few uber rich and the many domestic workers who maintain their homes and gardens.

I have lived in 20 homes thus far in my life. The count would ring higher if I counted every weigh station that bookended those 20 homes, but I'll stop at 20 because that feels sufficiently nomadic on its own.

After the WWE action figure plummeted from the kitchen cabinet to the top of my head, I had a clear vision: There is no "taste police." No one, but you, really cares what your home looks like. And that's OK.

Miami has become my home as I have lived here longer than any other place since leaving home in 1990, aged 18 to join the British Diplomatic Service. Since then I have moved 21 times in 24 years in pursuit of Her Majesty's interests.

You think Superman has a poster of Christina Hendricks up in the Fortress of Solitude? No. No he does not. Posters, even in expensive frames, do not belong up on the wall of your place unless they are from Academy Award-winning films that you either starred in or paid for.